


Brave

by Eldalire



Series: Dreaming Dreams [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Cancer, Happy Ending, M/M, Nobody Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan has a hard time dealing with his diagnosis of Hodgkin's Lymphoma, but with the help of his friends, his family, and his love, Feuilly, he might just be able to upkeep his sunny demeanor, even in the darkest of times.</p><p>Name changed.  I didn't like it before! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Feuilly drove Jehan to the hospital, despite the protesting.  Jehan trembled in the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest. He hated the doctor, and the very idea of it made him sick to his stomach.

            “It’s alright, Baby Doll.” Feuilly said with a smile, taking Jehan’s hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just want to make sure.” Jehan nodded. 

He had been waking up in the middle of the night recently, always in a cold sweat, and he had lost eight pounds in just under three months.  What prompted the doctor visit, however, was a terribly swollen lymph node on the side of his neck, which Joly said needed to be checked out.  The doctor had promptly send them to the hospital for a few tests and an x-ray.

“Don’t be scared. Doctors don’t do anything that isn’t good for you.”

“My body is my special place and I don’t like other people poking needles into it and putting chemicals in it and Feuilly I’m so scared!” he babbled, tears coming to his eyes. Feuilly pulled into a parking spot and ran around the car to Jehan’s side.  He opened the door and pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his hair as he sniffled.

“It’s alright. I’ll be here the entire time. Your parents will be here tomorrow for their visit, and everything is going to be great.  You heard Joly.  Even he said it was probably nothing.  He said it might just be a cold.  No biggie. Come on, I’ll stay with you the whole time, I promise.” He said with a smile, offering Jehan his hand. He took it, looking up at Feuilly with big, frightened eyes as they walked into the hospital.

“Feuilly I don’t want to go I’m scared please—” he babbled as they entered the waiting room. It was terribly stark and uninviting, making Jehan all the more nervous.

“You have to, Baby Doll. I know you don’t want to, I don’t want to either, but I need to know that you’re alright, and on the off chance that you’re not alright, I need to know so I can help you get better. I love you.  I don’t want anything to happen to you.  Do it for me, okay?  Be brave for me.” Feuilly said softly, sitting next to Jehan on one of the couches pushed against the wall.  He draped his arm over Jehan’s slender frame and rocked him back and forth, gently.

“But you’re brave. You’re supposed to be brave for me I’m not made for brave things, Feuilly, I’m too tiny.” Jehan babbled, nearly incoherent.  He tended to spew words when he was in any form of extreme emotion, usually flowery poems he had memorized, but now, in his distress, he couldn’t think of anything happy to say.

“Hey,” Feuilly said, quieting Jehan, “you don’t have to be big and scary to be brave. Frodo wasn’t big and scary. That chick from _Tangled_ wasn’t big and scary.” He said. Jehan chuckled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.  “This’ll take ten minutes, and then we’ll go to that little thrift shop you like and out for ice cream, okay?”

“Okay.” Jehan agreed reluctantly with a meek smile as the doctor called his name from the door. Jehan stood up and looked back at Feuilly.

“Can he come?” he asked the doctor quietly, his cheeks turning terribly red.  Jehan was so shy, Feuilly was amazed he had asked the doctor anything at all.  The doctor thought for a moment, but seeing Jehan’s obvious distress, he nodded.

“I don’t usually let anyone in the office besides patients, but you’re obviously a bit stressed.” He smiled as Feuilly took Jehan’s hand and followed him into the examination room.

 

—o0o—

 

The ten minute appointment turned into a five hour afternoon of tests and x-rays and CAT scans, and with every test, the news got worse and worse.  Jehan was sitting in the waiting room with Feuilly, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, when the doctor came out for the final time with his test results. Feuilly looked up at the doctor, who silently stared down at his intimidating clipboard. Jehan looked up, desperation in his eyes when he heard the doctor sigh.

            “Why don’t you come on back into the examination room?” the Doctor suggested, holding the door open.  Feuilly took Jehan’s hand and helped him up.  He could hardly walk; his knees were shaking so much.  The flower in his hair had wilted, much like his overall demeanor, and he kicked off his happy yellow Chuck Taylors when he sat down on the examination table with Feuilly, who held him close.

            “Jean Prouvaire, I am sorry to inform you that you have early-stage Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.” Jehan began shaking violently, his breathing uneven and shallow.  His eyes flooded with heavy tears.  He collapsed into Feuilly.

            “That’s not what I have.  I don’t have that. I can’t have that. I don’t have cancer, I don’t. I can’t have that!” he chanted into Feuilly’s sweatshirt, rocking and shaking.  If he didn’t know the context, Feuilly would have thought he was having some sort of fit.

            “This may sound insensitive, but if you’re going to get cancer, this is the one to get.  It is extremely treatable. You’re young, you’re in a very early stage of progression, and you clearly have plenty of love and support!” he smiled, handing Feuilly a flier of information.

            “What’s the survival rate, or whatever you call it?” Feuilly asked.

            “He’s actually in a very good position considering his age and the stage of progression, as I mentioned, so the five year survival rate is 98%.”

            “You hear that, Love?  98% That’s great! You’re gonna be fine!”

            “No Feuilly I can’t I can’t do it I’m not ready for it I’m not going to do it!” he babbled.  Feuilly let him cry, rubbing his back up and down, speaking with the doctor.

            “What’s treatment?” Feuilly asked.

            “He is going to need chemotherapy…I suggest we start as soon as possible.”

            “No! No I can’t do that! Feuilly I-I-Please I can’t! Oh goodness what am I going to do?! Will my hair fall out?!” Poor Jehan was a mess of tears and sobs.  Feuilly felt completely useless, powerless against Jehan’s prevailing despair.

            “Afraid so.” The doctor said with a frown.  Jehan took his long braid in his hand and held it tight. The doctor wrote a note on his clipboard and handed it to Feuilly.  “Make an appointment for the first round of chemo.  I’ll see you soon, Prouvaire.  I’m sorry for the tough news.” He added as he left the room.

            “Feuilly what am I going to do?” he whispered through his tears, leaning against him.

            “We’re gonna get through this.  You’re gonna beat it’s ass.” He said, hoisting Jehan into his lap, planting gentle kisses in his hair.  “And we’re going to get you some silky scarves for your head, and we’re going to get you lots of cute hats, and we’re going to go on a raw vegan diet, and we’re going to whoop this in the butt.” He said with a smile, taking Jehan’s chin in his hand and lifting his face up to look at him.  Feuilly fisted his hand around the end of his sweatshirt sleeve and wiped away the tears on his love’s cheeks.  “and right now, we’re going to call your parents, and we’re going to tell them what’s going on, okay?” Jehan nodded into Feuilly’s chest and handed him his phone. “Do you want to talk to them, or do you want me to tell them?”

            “You.” Jehan cooed.  Feuilly dialed and sighed, trying to think of the right way to say it.  How do you tell a mother her child has cancer without upsetting her?  You don’t.

            “Hey, uh, Mrs. Prouvaire, it’s Feuilly.” He said when she answered the phone. “Jehan and I are at the hospital and—No! No he just…well yeah something is wrong he’s g—no don’t freak out, it’s not too bad.  He has really early stage Hodgkin’s Lymph—” Jehan began to cry again when he heard his mother burst into tears over the phone. Jehan’s father took over and asked for Jehan.  “He wants to talk to you.” Feuilly explained, handing Jehan the phone.  He took it gingerly.

            “Papa? I’m okay I’m very scared…You have to come tomorrow still okay?” he sniffled.  “Papa make sure Mommy’s okay I don’t want her to be upset…They said there’s a 98% chance of getting through it, so that’s…good…Okay Papa…Okay I’ll see you tomorrow…Love you.” He turned off the phone and put it back into his pocket, placing his face in his hands again and sitting quietly.

            “Come on, Baby Doll.” Feuilly said, picking up Jehan and carrying him out of the room.  He held him all the way out to the car.  Jehan pulled his legs up to his chest and sat in a ball the entire ride home.

 

 

~Hello Lovelies!!!  
Hopefully that didn't squash your soul too much!  
This is meant to reflect a family member's journey through Hodgkin's, and how he got through it.  I mean to offer hope to people going through a similar struggle, and to let everyone know that you can kick this thing's ass ;)    
  
POOR JEHAN THO OMG POOR BABY


	2. Chapter 2

Jehan’s mother and father decided it best to stay with Jehan through treatment, and had been staying with him for a week when he had his first round of chemo.

 

Jehan was not one for needles, so an IV drip was truly horrifying for him.  He spent most of his first treatment in his father’s lap, shaking profusely and finally falling asleep from his exhausting worry.  Feuilly held his hand the entire time, regardless of whether or not his Jehan was awake.  He had worked his entire life to make good use of himself.  He had proved to the world that he could beat the odds, that him, a little orphan with no education, could adopt the world, and he did. But now, he felt completely powerless for the first time in his life.  There was nothing he could built, nothing he could read, nothing he could create that would fix Jehan.  He couldn’t take away his fear or the nausea had had begun complaining about. He couldn’t stop him from heaving into the trashcan and bawling.  All he could do was stand and watch his poor little Jehan writhe and retch and cry.

 

—o0o—

 

            “You are so brave, Baby!  You’re being so brave!” Jehan’s mother, Arielle, said as she held his hand from where he sat in Feuilly’s arms.  His father, Elliot, brushed the hair off Jehan’s ashen face.

            “You’re alright, Jehan…You’re doing so well.” Elliot said softly. Jehan gave a sort of hum in acknowledgement, his face rested against Feuilly’s chest.

            Feuilly placed Jehan gently on the couch where he lay limply. Arielle suddenly jumped and ran to the kitchen, coming back half a second later with the trashcan, which Jehan wretched into not a moment later.

            “How did you know?” Feuilly asked.

            “Mommies always know, Feuilly.  We always know what our babies need.” She explained, wiping away Jehan’s tears.

            “Mommy I feel so sick…” Jehan groaned.

            “I know, Baby.  I’m so sorry…If I could do it for you, I would in a heartbeat.”

            “Do you want the medication?  It might make you less nauseous.” Elliot suggested.  Jehan nodded.  Feuilly sat him up and Arielle went to get a glass of water.  He took the medication, then laid back down.

            “Feel better?” Feuilly asked.  Jehan nodded.  Feuilly smiled.

            “Well now we know what helps.” Elliot said with a grin.  Jehan extended his arms towards his father, and Elliot embraced him, holding him tight.

            “I love you, Papa.”

            “I love you too, my lovely little poem.”  Feuilly smiled.  How clever and fitting, to call Jehan a poem.

            “I, uh…I gotta head out for a while…” Feuilly said apologetically. He wanted to stay with Jehan more than anything, but he felt odd, sitting there with his parents. They needed family time, and Feuilly did have other things to do…He had to help Joly with a sofa and promised Enjolras he’d show his face at the latest volunteer endeavor. 

            “Come back soon, okay?” Jehan cooed weakly from the sofa.

            “I will.  I promise.” He replied.

            “Thank you, Feuilly.”  Arielle said, standing from where she was crouching in front of Jehan, and hugging Feuilly. He hesitated a moment, but returned the embrace.

            “We really appreciate everything you’re doing, really.” Elliot added with a warm smile.  Feuilly felt his face grow warm with a blush. 

Feuilly had never known his parents.  They died when he was an infant; he didn’t even know how.  He didn’t know their names.  He didn’t know where he was born.  He had lived alone for his entire life, staying at campsites in the summer, homeless shelters in the winter, for twenty three years.  It never bothered him.  He worked hard. He made a living. But things changed when he met Jehan’s family.  Never in his life had he felt so adored, so loved.  They treated him like another son.  The Prouvaire’s even paid his rent.  They invited him to dinner, brought him on family vacations; they really loved him, and Feuilly finally understood what it meant to be in a family.

He thought about them as he walked into the town hall parking lot, where Enjolras was holding his latest fund raiser: support for the local animal shelter.  After Grantaire adopted their kitten, Enjolras had a newly discovered passion for making sure every animal was loved completely and entirely, and that kill shelters were eliminated.  This fundraiser was going towards food and care for animals in the shelter. Feuilly walked through the plethora of balloons and tables of local venders offering their wares for the charity. Kids scurried back and forth with balloon animals and cupcakes Grantaire had whipped up the night before. It didn’t take him long to find Enjolras in the middle of the action, sitting on the edge of a low platform where a high school rock band was setting up their instruments. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were there, as was Bossuet and Musichetta.  Eponine was in a nearby tent selling coffee from the Musain.  Joly was petting a passing puppy.

Enjolras saw Feuilly approach and greeted him with a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming.” He said with a smile.  Feuilly grinned back meekly, the smile never reached his eyes.

“How’s Jehan?” Grantaire asked, holding Roux, Enjolras’ kitten, in his arms.

“Is he feeling alright?” Joly inquired.  Feuilly shrugged awkwardly.  What was he supposed to say?

“He’s pretty sick right now…Today was the first round of chemo.” He explained.

“Oh poor thing…” Bossuet said, mostly to himself, looking to the ground.

“You can go back, Feuilly, don’t feel like you have to stay here.” Enjolras said. “I didn’t know how bad he was…I thought he would come too…” he suddenly felt guilty.  Enjolras was intelligent beyond belief, but sometimes his current vision got in the way of his compassion.

“Yeah you can help me move the sofa another time…” Joly added.

“He’s with his mom and dad. He’s okay.  I needed to get out of there, honestly…” Feuilly looked pained, as if someone was twisting a knife in his back.  Grantaire hugged him tight, letting Feuilly cry quietly into his shoulder.  Feuilly was a rock; a literal anchor.  He never cried, ever. Enjolras had known him for nearly five years and he had never once seen him like this.  He was normally intimidating and brave in the face of adversity or wrongdoing, but now he was a mess of tears in Grantaire’s arms, falling apart.

“It’ll be alright, Feuilly. You’re doing everything you can, it’s alright.” Bossuet said quietly.  Grantaire rubbed his back.

“What’s been going on?” Joly asked. As a med student, he was curious about Jehan’s symptoms.

“He was okay at first, when they first gave him the IV, but an hour in he started getting sick and he just keeps throwing up…He’s so weak…I haven’t told him, but his hair’s started to fall out.  It’s all over his pillow. He just keeps crying and I can’t fix it!” he cried, angry with himself; angry with everything. Why was this happening?! What did Jehan do to deserve this?! He only ever loved everyone and everything.  He was only good, only kind and sunshine.  He didn’t deserve this terrible disease. 

“It’s not your job to fix it, Feuilly.” Enjolras said, placing his hand lovingly on his shoulder. “Your job is to be with Jehan when he needs you and to love him.  That’s all you have to do.  That’s all you can do.” He explained.  Feuilly nodded, pulling away from Grantaire and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“We should throw him a little party or something…something small to make him feel better…” Joly suggested.

“I have lots of hats. He can have some.” Bossuet said with a smile.  Being bald himself, he was the hat master.  At that very moment he was wearing his favorite knit beret.  Feuilly nodded.

“Might make him feel better.” He agreed with a meek smile.

“We’ll take care of it.” Enjolras said, scratching Roux’s head as the kitten sat quietly in his arms.

“I’m going to go back now…Make sure he’s okay.” Feuilly said.

“Bring Roux. Jehan loves him. I’ll pick him up on the way home.” Enjolras said, handing the kitten to Feuilly, who grinned.

“He does love him.”

“Just remember to give him a bowl of water.” Grantaire added.  Feuilly nodded and headed back to Jehan’s house.

 

—o0o—

 

Jehan was in higher spirits when Feuilly returned with the kitten.  Feuilly was overjoyed when he saw Jehan, sitting up on the sofa with a cup of ginger ale settled in his long fingers.  He was even smiling at the movie his mother had put in: _Mamma Mia!_ with Meryl Streep.

            “Hey, Kiddo.” Elliot said with a grin when Feuilly entered the room. Jehan turned around and looked over the back of the couch at Feuilly.

            “You brought a new friend!” Arielle smiled.  Jehan’s face lit up.

            “Feuilly is that Roux?” he asked with a bright smile. 

            “Yeah. Enjolras said to bring him over.” He explained, setting the kitten down in Jehan’s lap.

            “Hello, Roux!” Jehan cooed, stroking the kitten.

            “Feeling better?” Feuilly asked, sitting Jehan’s left; his mother on the other side.

            “Much better.  That medication got rid of my stomach ache.” He replied with a smile, scratching behind Roux’s ears.

            “That was kind of Enjolras to let you bring his kitten back.” Arielle said, playing with the kitten’s tail.  “He’s always been so thoughtful.”

            “Yeah he’s good.” Feuilly replied simply, draping his arm around Jehan’s shoulders as he played with the kitten.  

            “It really is amazing that playing with a kitten can make you so much happier!” Jehan giggled, snuggling the kitten in his arms, giving it a little kitty hug. Elliot smiled.

            “I’m glad you’re happy, Jehan.  I love to see you smile.” He said from his seat in the armchair.

            “You have the most beautiful smile!” his mother added.

            “I second that.” Feuilly said.  Jehan leaned against his shoulder.

            “I love you.  I love all of you.” Jehan cooed.

            “We love you too, Baby, we love you so, so much.”  Arielle said, placing Jehan’s hand in her own and stroking it soothingly.  Elliot smiled and nodded his agreement.  Feuilly gave Jehan’s forehead a quick kiss before brushing the reddish hair off of his pale face. He tried his best not to show his horror to Jehan when the strands fell out in his hand.

 

 

 

~My poor baby Jehan!!!  I hope he feels better soon!

Thoughts?  Comments make my day :)


	3. Chapter 3

By the third day after his first chemotherapy session, all of Jehan’s beautiful, red hair was gone.  Even his light eyelashes had all disappeared. Feuilly held him tight as he cried, mourning over his loss.  Jehan expressed himself through what he wore and how he did his long, lovely hair. He was lost without his flower-laden braids and cloth headbands; he felt ugly and naked and lost, and Feuilly could do nothing but hold him.

            “F-Feuilly this is-s-s…I-I-I can’t-t…” Jehan sobbed, making no sense. Jehan held him in his lap, rubbing his hand up and down Jehan’s back, sitting on his bed. 

            “You can do this, Jehan.” He said, rocking him back and forth, how he liked. “You can do this, I know you can.”

            “I can’t-t-t!” he cried.  Feuilly’s heart skipped.

            “Don’t ever say that, Baby Doll.” He said softly.  “I know you can beat this.” He smiled meekly.

            “Why is this happening to me?!” he asked. 

            “I don’t know, Jehan…It isn’t fair.”

            “Don’t leave me, okay?  I’m sorry I’m so sick and ugly but please stay with me, Feuilly, okay? I love you.”

            “Jehan I love you more than life.  Don’t you worry about that.  I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.  And you’re anything but ugly, Baby Doll.” He took Jehan’s chin in his big, thick hands and looked into his pretty blue-green eyes.  “You don’t need hair to be beautiful.”

            “There isn’t much pretty about me besides my hair…” he said quietly, wiping his eyes with his hand. 

            “There’s your freckles.  They’re nice.” Feuilly said with a smile.  Jehan shrugged, picking at his fingernails.  Feuilly watched him for a moment before continuing.  “Your nose is nice and long and thin.” Jehan blushed. “There’s your lovely, delicate hands.” He continued, taking Jehan’s thin, white hand and pressing it against his own.  “And your eyes…They’re like…

 

‘The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;’

 

That’s what they’re like.” He recited. Jehan smiled wide.

            “That’s Percy Bysshe Shelley.” Jehan said, recognizing the poem.  “‘Love’s Philosophy’.  That’s what it’s called.”

            “I know. I know you like it.” Feuilly said with a grin, sitting Jehan down on the bed and walking over to the dresser, opening the sock drawer, which had recently begun housing Jehan’s growing collection of scarves.  Feuilly chose one of a particularly silky material, decorated with a delicate floral pattern on a bright aqua background.  He sat behind Jehan on the bed and draped it over his head, gently tying it in the back. Jehan looked over his shoulder.

            “Does it look okay?” he asked. Feuilly nodded.

            “Beautiful.” He said with a smile.  “Feeling okay? Ready to go to Enjolras’?” he asked. Enjolras and the others had planned a little get together to brighten Jehan’s spirits.

            “I think so.” He smiled. “I’ll bring the Zofran just in case I feel sick.” He slipped off of the bed and grabbed the prescription bottle, then shoved it into his pocket.  “Can we walk there?” he asked.  “It’s nice out.” Feuilly thought for a moment.

            “It’s almost two miles…Do you think you can make it?” he asked.  Jehan shrugged sadly.  “Let’s drive, okay? It’ll make me feel better.” He smiled.

            “Kay.” Jehan said, adjusting his scarf and giving Feuilly a hug before leaving the bedroom and walking down the stairs to the door.  “Papa I’m going to Enjolras’ with Feuilly!” he called.  His father was in the kitchen, his mother at the store.

            “Have fun! Call if you need anything! Do you have the Zofran?”

            “Yes I have it. Back later!” he smiled, taking Feuilly’s hand and standing on his toes, something he did when he was excited.

            “Who’s going to be there?” Jehan asked as they drove.  He smiled brightly, his hands folded neatly in his lap.  He looked so small and frail, with his boney shoulders and his knobby, shaking knees.

            “‘Jolras, Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, Marius, Cosette, Courf and Combeferre…Maybe that girl Grantaire knows from the Musain.”

            “Oh Eponine I like her.” Jehan cooed.  “What are we doing?”

            “I think Enjolras has some stuff planned…Movies.  We don’t want to wear you out.” He said.  Jehan frowned slightly.

            “You won’t wear me out.” He insisted.  Feuilly sighed.

            “I know you don’t want to believe it, Baby Doll, but you’re going to be weak for a while.”

            “No I’m alright.” Jehan insisted, tears coming to his eyes.

            “Don’t cry, Jehan.” Feuilly said soothingly from the driver’s seat.  “I just want you to get better.  The more you rest, the faster you’ll be back to normal.”  Jehan nodded, then looked out the window, adjusting his scarf, pulling it farther down his forehead to keep it on.

 

            “There’s Jehan!” Bossuet shouted when he entered Enjolras’ apartment.  Jehan smiled meekly from the doorway as he was bombarded with a plethora of hugs.

            “It feels like we haven’t seen you in forever!” Joly said with a grin.

            “Are you feeling okay?” asked Grantaire.

            “I’m alright.” Jehan replied, sitting down on the sofa next to Enjolras when he beaconed.

            “Can I do it now?” Cosette asked, holding up a pair of kitchen scissors.

            “Do what?” Jehan asked, confused but smiling.

            “I’m donating my hair to Locks of Love.” Enjolras said, a pained sort of smile on his immaculate face. Jehan’s eyes widened.

            “Oh Enjolras you don’t have to do that.  Your hair is so beautiful!”

            “Someone needs it more than I do.” He explained with a grin.

            “Can I do it?” Cosette asked again.  She was just itching to hack off Enjolras’ ponytail of lovely, golden pipe curls.

            “Yes, yes, come on.” He said, standing up from where he sat next to Jehan and moving to the ataman where Cosette would be able to reach him better. 

            “Goodbye, angel curls!” she said as she snipped off his ponytail.  Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, as if in pain. He only opened them when Cosette handed him his ponytail.  Marius clapped. Courfeyrac and Combeferre joined in, as did Jehan.

            “It is pretty, isn’t it?” Enjolras said, running his hand through his thick ponytail.       

            “It’ll make a little girl very happy.” Bossuet said with a snide sort of smirk. Everyone laughed. Enjolras shook his hair out, his once long curls now short and fluffy.

            “You look like Shirley Temple.” Grantaire said.

            “Better than his Dolly Parton ‘do before.” Courfeyrac threw in.

            “Thank you, Peanut Gallery, now go make fun of Marius like usual.” Enjolras replied with a hand wave in Marius’ direction.  Laughter erupted once again, even from Marius.

            “Oh that was so nice of you, Lovely.” Jehan said as Enjolras resumed his seat next to him. He gave Enjolras the biggest hug he could muster, which Enjolras gladly returned, though he was slightly alarmed at the weight Jehan had lost.  He was skeletal; not unlike Enjolras when he was diagnosed with anorexia a year ago. He had recovered, and he hoped Jehan would, too.

            “Alright movie time.” Grantaire said.  Everyone grabbed a seat. Marius and Cosette shared the massive armchair, Courfeyrac and Combeferre sat with their backs against the sofa on the floor, snuggled up with some pillows.  Feuilly sat next to Jehan, which soon became Jehan sitting in Feuilly’s lap, and Grantaire settled next to Enjolras, playing with his now-short, golden curls.  Joly and Bossuet shared the loveseat.

            “What are we watching?” Jehan asked with a smile.

            “ _Pretty Woman_ ” Grantaire smiled.

            “That’s my favorite!” Jehan cooed from Feuilly’s lap.

            “I know. That’s why we’re watching it.” Grantaire said, turning on the TV with the remote and starting the DVD. “Shit I forgot the popcorn.”

            “And the cupcakes.” Enjolras said as Grantaire hurried into the kitchen.  Though it was difficult to believe from his small, slim stature, Enjolras had a terrible sweet tooth.  He had been looking forward to those cupcakes all day, and would probably down at least three of them all on his own before the movie was over. Grantaire returned a moment later with three big bowls: one of plain popcorn with some salt, one with popcorn and chocolate chips, the other popcorn and cinnamon, Jehan’s favorite. He handed everyone a little bowl to fill.  He then retrieved the cupcakes: red velvet, Enjolras’ favorite, with little happy faces drawn on top in frosting.  Jehan took one carefully.

            “These are so cute!” he said with a smile.  “Aren’t they?” he held it up for Feuilly, who responded by taking a massive bite.

            “Adorable.” He said, his mouth full.  Jehan giggled and pulled off a piece for himself, eating it slowly, fearful of a stomachache. He was much more keen on the popcorn, and shared a bowl of cinnamon with Feuilly.

            “How have things been, Jehan?” Joly asked, sitting on the edge of the loveseat, his elbows on his knees.

            “Tough…” he replied, “but I’m alright.  You guys make me feel better.” He smiled.  Feuilly kissed his head, until Jehan craned his neck up and met his lips for a proper kiss.

            “Are your parents here?” Grantaire asked.  Having a drunk father and a mother who abandoned him, Grantaire always asked about other people’s families, curious as to what ‘normal’ parents were like.  Jehan nodded.

            “Yes my papa and mommy are here.  They’re going to stay until I’m better.” He explained.  “I feel sorry for my mom…She’s so worried.  I hear her crying at night…”

            “You just focus on you, Jehan.” Enjolras said.  He was always the one with the game-plan and found a sort of thrill in giving guidance. “Don’t worry yourself over anyone else.”

            “It’s hard.” Jehan said with a meek smile.  “I never think about myself.”

            “That’s why you’re so wonderful.” Combeferre said.

            “That’s what got you in with all us dorks.” Bossuet chuckled. 

            “But you’re my dorks and I love you.” Jehan said with a smile, hunkering down against Feuilly, his head on a pillow against the arm of the sofa, and watched the movie, becoming sleepy.  He seemed to be sleepy a lot lately, and it made Feuilly worry every time he closed his eyes. What if he never opened them? What if he never saw those beautiful, cerulean blue eyes again?  What if his Jehan slipped away and he didn’t even know it?  He pressed a kiss to Jehan’s pale temple after he fell asleep, the warmth radiating from his body reassuring him.

            “When did he lose his hair?” Enjolras asked quietly.

            “It started a few hours after the first round of chemo, but most of it was gone by yesterday. He was really upset this morning when it had all gone.”

            “Poor thing.” Enjolras said, taking Jehan’s hand and running his thumb over his knuckles as he laid in Feuilly’s lap.

            “His hair was so pretty.” Combeferre said with a sad smile.

            “We all made sure we didn’t say anything…We didn’t want to make him upset.” Marius said. Cosette nodded sadly, looking at Jehan’s pale, hairless body.  It was strange to see someone without eyebrows or eyelashes.  Jehan looked ghostly pale and otherworldly, his face completely smooth and white, his freckly cheeks sunken.  His pale eyelashes left behind saddened, naked eyes. His forehead was lonely without his eyebrows.  He was ugly in a beautiful sort of way, his skin creamy, his face clean and smooth like a newborn baby. The scarf on his head cascaded over his skinny shoulder like a floral waterfall, both calm and melancholy at once. He was beautiful to look at, but ugly by association.  Cancer cannot be beautiful, but the person housing the disease most certainly can be. She smiled at the thought, at how pretty Jehan was, even in his despair.  When he was sleeping, he was free, serene as a lily. 

            Feuilly covered him with Enjolras’ snuggle blanket he kept draped over the sofa.  Jehan hummed his approval in his sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Jehan woke about an hour later, sitting up with something of a start, and coughing. Feuilly quickly slipped from underneath him, setting him gently on the sofa and running to the kitchen. What little color was left in Jehan’s face drained and he gagged just as Feuilly returned with the trash bin. He looped his arm around Jehan’s chest and held him up as he heaved into the trash, tears rolling down his cheeks. Feuilly rubbed his back, and Enjolras held the ends of his scarf back to keep them from getting dirty.

            “You okay?” Joly asked, leaning into Bossuet, fear in his eyes.  Joly couldn’t see anyone ill without immediately showing ‘symptoms’ himself. When Jehan had finished, Feuilly pulled Jehan back up, letting him lean against his chest as he sobbed, his eyes closed tight, his hands fisted in the blanket.

            “F-F-Feuilly-y-y…” Jehan sobbed, leaning against him, the back of his head against his shoulder. Everyone looked on, shocked into silence, unable to do anything to stop Jehan’s suffering.

            “You’re alright, Baby Doll.” Feuilly said, holding Jehan close, letting him cry.

            “Can we do anything?” Grantaire asked.  Enjolras stood up, ready to fetch anything Jehan might need.

            “Glass of water. He needs the medication.” Feuilly instructed, letting Jehan lay down and fishing the prescription bottle out of his pocket and shaking one out, placing it in Jehan’s shaky hand as Enjolras returned with the glass of water.  Jehan took the medication without complaint, then took a shaky breath.

            “You okay?” Grantaire asked. Jehan nodded, pulling off the scarf and wiping away the thin film of sweat off of his head with his sweatshirt sleeve.  He sat up slowly, shaking and looking away.

            “Jehan?” Bossuet asked when a quiet tear slipped from Jehan’s pretty blue eyes.

            “Jehan.” Courfeyrac attempted, slightly more demanding.  Jehan’s pretty, fair lips pulled violently into the cruel grin of complete and utter despair.  He covered his face in his hands.

            “I’m sorry.” He whispered through his tears.

            “What?” Grantaire asked quietly, placing a hand on Jehan’s back.

            “I’m sorry!” he shouted. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything!” he sobbed, not daring to look anyone in the eyes. 

            “You haven’t ruined anything, Jehan!”  Enjolras assured him with a smile, placing a loving hand on his skeletal shoulder. He pushed it away.

            “Please don’t—” he squeaked, running his hands over his hairless head, as if to hide it. He was so terribly embarrassed by the entire situation.  He didn’t want everyone looking at him.  What particularly embarrassed him was his baldness.  It was so awkward and out of place for him, and it was the biggest giveaway of his deteriorating condition.  He hated knowing that whenever he left his house, strangers could look at him and know he was ill.  He could almost hear them thinking ‘that poor boy with cancer.’, and he abhorred it. That wasn’t who he was. He was Jehan Prouvaire, not ‘Hodgkin’s’ or ‘cancer’, even though that’s what everyone seemed to be calling him.

            Enjolras pulled his hand away sadly, pursing his lips.  Everyone was silent, and Jehan’s face suddenly became an enraged red.

            “What are you all looking at?!” he shouted.  “Put another movie on or something!  Leave me alone!” Everyone looked away and pretended to be occupied: Bossuet untied and retied his shoe.  Courfeyrac cleaned his glasses on his shirt. Grantaire searched the cabinet for another DVD.

            “Do you want to go home?” Feuilly whispered to Jehan.  He wiped Jehan’s eyes with his sweatshirt sleeve.  He thought for a short moment before nodding.

            “I don’t feel good.” He replied with a sniffle. 

            “Kay.” Feuilly said, standing. “Guys Jehan’s not feeling to hot…we’re gonna head home.”  Joly nodded.

            “Hope you feel better, Jehan.” Combeferre said, offering a smile.  Feuilly took Jehan’s hands and stood him up, his knees shaking.

            “Yeah rest up.” Marius added. Cosette nodded in agreement.

            “We love you!” Joly said with a wave.  Grantaire handed Feuilly a paper bag from the kitchen.  Jehan looked at it and glared.

            “Well what the fuck is that for?!” Jehan shouted, tearing it out of Feuilly’s hand and throwing it onto the floor.

            “Just in case you get sick on the way home.” Grantaire explained, slightly startled. He had never heard Jehan swear before. It seemed impossible for such a sweet, pale creature like Jehan to spew such venomous language.

            “I am not going to get sick! I’m fine!” he wailed, tears coming to his eyes.

            “We know you are, Jehan, we just want to help.” Enjolras added.  “We all feel so helpless, we’re trying to make ourselves feel useful. We just want you to get better.” Jehan suddenly felt guilty, which was not what Enjolras intended.

            “Well, sorry I’m such a jerk.” Jehan whispered.

            “No, no Jehan! This isn’t your fault. None of us blame you.” He continued, bending over and picking up the folded paper bag and handing it gingerly to Jehan. “Please just take it. For us.” He smiled. Jehan nodded and leaned into Enjolras, giving him a hug.  Enjolras returned it gladly. 

            “We’re here for you. We’re always here for you. Call if you need anything, both of you.” He said, finally releasing Jehan and looking to Feuilly with a smile.

 

—o0o—

 

As soon as Jehan was beginning to feel better, his second round of chemotherapy destroyed his progress.  The sessions were only about a week apart, just long enough to allow Jehan ‘recovery time’, but also just long enough to get his hopes up.

            “I’m feeling better lately.” He said from the back seat of the car where he sat with Feuilly, his mother and father up front.  “maybe this one won’t be as bad.”

            “Maybe, Little Poet!” he mother cooed from the passenger seat, but she didn’t sound especially convincing. She knew it was going to be just as hard on Jehan, if not worse.  He had been weakened so much by the first round, and this time, he would have to have blood drawn beforehand, as well as a physical to ensure he was well enough for the chemo drugs.  Today was also his first round of radiation, which would involve yet more injections and uncomfortable machines in cold rooms.  They hadn’t told Jehan that yet.  Nobody wanted to worry him.

            “Did you bring the book Combeferre gave you?” Elliot asked from the driver’s seat.  Jehan nodded.

            “He said it was very good.” Jehan said with a smile, taking the book out of his bag and looking it over.

            “Maybe it’ll take your mind off treatment today.” He smiled back at his son, who leaned against Feuilly.

            “What book is it?” Feuilly asked.

            “The Silmarillion…I think it has something to do with the Lord of the Rings.” He said, flipping through the pages.

            “Oh remember when I read those to you? You were so little!” Arielle cooed with a smile.  Jehan giggled.

            “I remember Jehan fancied Legolas.” Elliot said.  Feuilly laughed.

            “Sorry I’m no Legolas, Jehan.” He said with a grin.

            “You’re blonde and tall.” Jehan said, running his hand down Feuilly’s stubbly cheek.

            “I’ve also got big feet and a missing tooth.” He said, bearing his teeth and exposing his gold first-molar. He lost it in a bar fight when he was seventeen.  He had saved up for years to have it fixed, and only could with help from the Prouvaire’s.

            “I like it. It makes you look tough.” Jehan whispered to him, craning his neck and giving him a kiss.  Elliot rolled his eyes at his wife with a smile.

            “Save your sweet nothings for another time, Little Poet.” Elliot said, turning around briefly and giving Jehan a wink.  He blushed. Feuilly tied Jehan’s silky pink scarf around his head as they pulled into the parking lot of the treatment center.

 

They were greeted immediately by a smiling nurse with bouncy black curls.

            “Good morning! You must be Jean Prouvaire.” She said. He nodded with a meek smile, holding Feuilly’s hand.  “Wonderful! This is going to be a little different than last time.” She said.  Jehan’s small smile vanished in a hurry.  “We’re going to weigh you, then take a blood sample to see how you’re doing, alright?” Jehan nodded, but Feuilly could tell he wanted to cry.  They followed her down the short hallway and into a small treatment room, where Jehan’s IV drip was already set up, glaring at him when he entered.  “The phlebotomist will be here in just a minute!” she cooed as she closed the door.  Jehan looked petrified.

            “Are you alright, Baby?” His mother asked, taking Jehan and holding him in a tight hug. He made no reply.

            “You’ll be alright, Jehan. We’ll be right here. Not to worry.” Elliot added. Feuilly sat down in the armchair next to the machine that would deliver Jehan’s chemotherapy drugs. That way, he would be close enough to offer comfort when the tests and treatment began. Though he loved Jehan beyond belief and wanted nothing more than to hold him, he didn’t want to interfere when he was with his mother and father, and did his best to stay out of the way.

            “Sit down, alright, Baby? We’ll get you all comfortable.” Arielle smiled, placing the pillow from Jehan’s bed onto the recliner he was to sit in.  She then pulled a fluffy blanket out of her bag and covered Jehan’s tiny frame, for he was shivering. Though it was the beginning of summer, the hospital had to be kept cold for the machinery, and Jehan was so skinny and frail, he was always cold lately.  He took the blanket gladly and wore it like a cape, pulling his knees up to his chest and covering everything but his head, which he sat on top of his arms. The puffy pink blanket matched his scarf nicely, and it made Feuilly smile.  Jehan looked like a little pink bunny rabbit with floppy ears. Feuilly sat on the edge of his chair, putting his elbows on the arm of Jehan’s, his head sitting in his hands. He just looked at him and smiled. Even as sickly as he was, with his papery skin and hairless head, he was still so pleasant to look at, with his pretty eyes and petal lips.  Jehan closed his eyes for a moment with a sign, letting his head lean against the back of the chair.

            “You alright?” Feuilly asked. Jehan nodded.

            “Just nervous. Trying to calm down, I guess.” He replied, shaking his hand out from under his puffy blanket and lacing his fingers between Feuilly’s. 

            “I’m here. I’ll always be here. _We’ll_ always be here.” He smiled at Jehan’s parents.  His mother nodded in agreement.  There was then a knock at the door as a nurse walked in with a tray of equipment to take a blood sample.  Jehan suddenly became alert, his eyes wide with a feral fear. He held tighter to Feuilly’s hand.

            “Hello, Jean Prouvaire.” She said, consulting her clipboard.  “How are you feeling today?”

            “A little nervous.” Jehan replied honestly, quietly.

            “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be just fine!” she said, taking Jehan’s arm and pushing up his sweatshirt sleeve, revealing his stick-like arm.  A tear came to Jehan’s eye. He was so afraid of needles, just the thought of one in his arm made him want to vomit.  “You’re not worried about this part, are you?” she asked. Jehan shrugged.

            “I’m afraid of needles.” He admitted.

            “I’ll use a little one, alright?  You’ll hardly know it’s there!  Just look away, and it’ll be over before you know it.” She said, tying a piece of elastic around Jehan’s arm and feeling for a vein.  When she found one, she cleaned off the area with an alcohol pad.

            “Look at me, Jehan.” Feuilly said with a smile, taking Jehan’s cheek in his hand and turning his head. Jehan nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his hand shaking in Feuilly’s.  “Just look at me.” He grinned.  Jehan did his best not to think about the cold alcohol on his arm and the imminent needle that would soon be under his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the point.

            “You’re okay.” Feuilly said, seeing Jehan’s head lull back, becoming numb.  Pins and needles shot up his arm and up to his head, making him dizzy. 

            “Are you doing anything fun over the weekend?” the nurse asked, trying to make conversation in an effort to ease Jehan as she switched the vial.  He shook his head.

            “Enjolras organized a fund raiser for you, remember?” Feuilly said, holding Jehan’s hand.

            “Oh yeah…We’ll can go to that, right?” Jehan said, his voice panicked.

            “Breathe sweetie.” The nurse reminded him.

            “Good job, baby!” Arielle cooed, standing next to Jehan, behind Feuilly, her hand on her son’s head.

            “Yeah we’ll go. It’ll be fun.” He smiled. “It’s like a run, I think. Lots of people will come for you. Everyone knows you.”

            “I don’t know about that…” Jehan said, squeezing his eyes shut again as the nurse changed the vial a second time.

            “You know tons of people, Jehan.  You teach those yoga classes on Saturdays in the park.  Everyone loves you.” Feuilly explained.

            “I haven’t been there for three weeks now…” he said sadly.

            “They’ll understand. I think one of the regulars is covering for you until you’re feeling better.”

            “Little pinch!” the nurse warned as she ejected the needle.  Jehan tensed, but sighed, relieved, once it was out.  She taped a gauze pad to his arm.  “I’ll just test this quick and the doctor will be in soon! Feel better!” she said, leaving the room. 

            “Thank you.” Jehan said after her.  Elliot stood up and gave Jehan a hug in his chair, then covered him back up with his blanket.

            “Did you bring the medication?” Elliot asked.  Jehan nodded, removing the bottle from his sweatshirt pocket.  “Take it as soon as you start the chemo treatment so you won’t feel sick.” His father instructed, pulling a water bottle out of the large tote back that had housed the blanket, as well as numerous other things Jehan might need.

            The doctor entered the room a moment later, a smile on his face.

            “Hello, Jean, is it?” he asked.

            “Jehan.” He said. His father had started calling him that when he was little.  He said it was poetic, like Jean, and that it was a more fitting name for him. He’d been called that ever since, though his official documents still read ‘Jean Prouvaire’.

            “Jehan…” he wrote on his clipboard as a reminder for next time.  “Ready to start?” he asked.  Jehan shrugged.

            “Don’t worry. We’ll get some medication in you and you’ll feel fine.  Hopefully you won’t get so nauseous this time.” He said, taking Jehan’s right arm. His left had already been used for the blood test.  Feuilly quickly moved to the other side of the chair so that Jehan could look at him instead of the needle. The doctor started the IV and taped a gauze pad over the needle so Jehan wouldn’t be able to see it. “All set.  Just stay put and I’ll be in to check on you, just like last time. Take the Zofran if you start to feel nauseous.” He smiled and left the room. 

 

Jehan sighed and let his head lull back against the chair.

            “Okay, this one says ‘Five suspects are called into police headquarters for questioning. They give the following statements.

A:"One of the five of us is lying."

B:"Two of the five of us are lying."

C:"I know these guys, and three of the five of us are lying."

D:"Don't listen to a word they say. Out of the five of us, four are lying."

E:"All five of us are dirty rotten liars!”

            Which one’s lying?” Feuilly said, reading off of the screen of the Nintendo.  Jehan thought for a minute.

            “I think it’s one.” He said after a minute.  Feuilly tapped in the answer and showed the screen to Jehan when Professor Layton smiled. Jehan grinned. “We got it right!” he giggled.

            “ _You_ got it right.  I suck at these games.” He replied, finding another puzzle in the game for them to solve. “This is one of those slide-y ones where you have to get the ball out of the maze.  Want to do it?” he asked, handing Jehan his pink DS.

            “I think I can handle it.” Jehan smiled, sitting up and sliding the puzzle pieces around until there was a path for the little ball to exit the maze.  He handed it back to Feuilly, the screen making him dizzy.

            “you okay?”

            “Yeah. The screen just makes me dizzy if I look at it too long.  Tell me another one, though.” He said, leaning back against the chair.

            “Do you need the bin, Jehan?” his mother asked, looking up from her book.

            “No I’m alright.” He smiled.

            Kay, this one says ‘A father and son are having a conversation. The father turns to the son and says: "You know, Son, there was a time when your old man was twice the age of your mother. Of course, the next year, I was only one and a half times her age, but still, that's pretty amazing, eh? If the father is 44 years old, how old is the mother?’ 

Aw this one’s easy!” Feuilly read.

            “What is it?” Jehan asked.

            “Just think about it. It’s easy.”  Jehan thought.

            “I don’t know! 20?”

            “43.”

            “No there’s no way that can be half of 44.”

            “Yeah, but that means when the father was 2, the mom was 1, so that’s half, then the next year she was 2 and he was 3, so that’s one and a half.”

            “Oh…Oh I get it! That’s clever of you, Darling.” Jehan cooed, closing his eyes.

            “Love you, Baby Doll.” Feuilly whispered, leaning over and kissing Jehan’s feverish forehead as he fell asleep.  He sighed, then looked to Jehan’s parents.

            “He loves you so much, Sweetie.” Arielle said to Feuilly, placing her bookmark between the pages. Feuilly only smiled meekly, running his hand through his shaggy blonde hair.  “All he does is talk about you from the moment you leave to the moment you come back.”

            “I’m not sure why he likes me so much, but I really love him, so I guess it’s okay.” He smiled.

            “And why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely!”

            “I’m not especially good looking.  I’ve got missing teeth, I’m sort of a slob…I’m not educated at all…I don’t really have anything to offer him…”

            “You do.” Elliot added with a grin.  “You’re adaptive. You’re brave.  You’re intelligent.  You don’t have to go to school to be intelligent, Feuilly.” He explained. “Believe me, if Arielle didn’t think you were deserving of our Jehan, you wouldn’t be anywhere near him.” He grinned at his wife.  She gave him a joking glare.

            “I’ve chased people away before!  Only the best for my baby!” she said, playing with her wedding ring.

            “And I’m the best?” Feuilly asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “You are most certainly the best for my Jehan.  He loves you, and you love him, and that’s what makes you perfect.” She explained, motioning Feuilly to sit down next to her.  She wrapped him in a motherly hug as soon as he was seated.

            “You’ve really helped Jehan through all of this.” Elliot added with a smile.  “You’ve given him a reason to keep going. He’s so terribly sensitive, without you he may have given up.” He seemed to become tearful as he said it, and Feuilly looked down briefly, saddened to think about it, though he knew it was true.  He always worried that Jehan would simply tire of being alive, that his struggle wasn’t worth his effort. He was terrified that Jehan would just fall asleep and give up, that he would join the two percent of Hodgkin’s patients who didn’t survive.  He knew that Jehan’s parents feared the same thing.

            “If I’m the reason he’s still going, then I’ll stay as long as he’ll have me.” He smiled.

            “Thank you so much, Sweetie.” Arielle said, taking Feuilly’s massive hand and holding it in her small, thin one.  “We appreciate everything you’re doing for us.  More than you know.” Feuilly shrugged again.  He wasn’t any good at this conversation business.  Arielle giggled and pushed his hair out of his face, how a mother would to a small child.

            “I wish we had met you earlier in your life, Feuilly.  You could have been a part of our family.” Elliot said.

            “He _is_ a part of our family.” Arielle corrected with a grin. Feuilly couldn’t do anything but smile.


	5. Chapter 5

By the weekend, Jehan was feeling somewhat better.  He finally felt well enough to get out of his pajamas, and had reassumed his flow-y, flowery attire for the fund raiser Enjolras had arranged on his behalf.  He was terribly excited to show off the pair of high tops Grantaire had painted for him with a field of flowers.  His pair of pale green shorts matched them perfectly, and his favorite shirt with the crochet sleeves just made him so happy, he just couldn’t leave it behind. He finished off the ensemble with one of his favorite scarves with crocheted edges to match his sleeves. Feuilly helped him tie it neatly at the nape of his neck, then leaned over his shoulder and kissed him.

            “You look beautiful.” He smiled.  Jehan smiled.

            “Thank you, Darling.” He reached up and ran his slender hand through Feuilly’s pale hair.

            “Ready to go?” he asked as Jehan tied his shoes.

            “Yup! Where is it?”

            “It starts at the Louvre.”

            “Oh I love the Louvre!”

            “That’s why it’s starting there.  It’s finishing at the Parc Monceau.”

            “Are you going to run it?”

            “Of course I am. Just for you.” Jehan smiled.  “Grantaire’s going to take you on the Vespa so you can hang out with us without having to run it, okay?” Jehan nodded.  Over the past few weeks, he had come to terms with his condition and that he wasn’t able to do everything he wanted to, but that it was alright and that he could accept help from his friends without becoming angry or embarrassed.  “He said he put streamers on the handlebars. 

            “Just like my bike when I was little!” Jehan smiled. 

            “There you are, baby!” Arielle said with a smile when Jehan reached the bottom of the staircase. “You look much better today.”

            “I finally got out of my pajamas.” Jehan smiled.

            “I’m so very proud of you, Little Poet.” Elliot said, giving Jehan a hug.

            “Are you coming to the run?”

            “Of course we are! Its for you!  We wouldn’t miss it!  And I haven’t seen Enjolras since your high school graduation, or Courfeyrac. I’m excited to see all of them again.” She grinned.  Feuilly held the door as they left the house, Mister and Mrs. Prouvaire taking their car, Jehan and Feuilly hopping into Feuilly’s pickup truck.

 

—o0o—

 

“Oh Jehan you look wonderful!” Joly cooed when he and Feuilly approached the group.  Everyone was in track shorts and pale pink, floral tee shirts Grantaire had designed. He and Enjolras had sent away for 500 so that everyone who signed up to run could have one.  They all read ‘Run ‘4’ Jehan’ on the front, and ‘Official Lovely’ on the back.

            “Thank you, Lovely!” Jehan cooed as he hugged Bossuet, who had nearly picked him up with his embrace.

            “Take a tee shirt.” Enjolras said with a smile, handing one to Jehan from the stack he was carrying. Jehan pulled it on over his flow-y shirt and smiled. 

            “These are adorable!” he said with a smile.

            “Grantaire made them.” Enjolras said, taking Grantaire’s hand.  Grantaire kissed him on the cheek.

            “Everyone’s wearing them!” Jehan cooed, looking around at the front of the Louvre, which was surrounded by people, all of them in pink flowery tee shirts.

            “Yup! Courfeyrac and Combeferre are signing people in.  Everyone gets one!” Enjolras explained as a young man Jehan did not know walked up beside him.

            “Hey Pretty Boy.” a dark skinned, curly haired man with a build like a tank said, giving Enjolras a playful punch.  Grantaire smiled.

            “Hey, Bahorel! Thank you for coming!” Enjolras said, hugging him briefly, standing on his toes to reach him. 

            “Any time, ‘Jolras. Especially for your cute friend.” He said, giving Jehan a wink.  Jehan giggled and leaned into Feuilly, hoping his point would be made.

            “He’s a guy.” Grantaire whispered discreetly to Bahorel, whose eyes widened.

            “Shit sorry!” he said, turning red.

            “That’s okay!” Jehan replied with a giggle.  “Most people think the same thing!  I don’t mind!”

            “Go sign up with Courf and Combeferre over at the table then I’ll give you a shirt.” Enjolras said with a grin.  

            “Kay I’ll see you when we start.” Bahorel said, turning and heading towards the tent.

            “Where did you meet him, Enjolras? He’s sweet!” Jehan asked.

            “I met him at treatment, actually.” Enjolras admitted.  “He had Bulimia. Our rooms were on the same floor.” He explained. Just then, there was a screech from a microphone and Musichetta’s voice crackled over the speakers.

            “Everyone running please get to the bottom of the stairs!  We’re starting soon!  Jehan will be in the lead cheering you on!  Don’t forget to say hi!” Jehan smiled, his cheeks red.

            “That’s so awkward!” he said, laughing.

            “Come on, I parked over by the stairs.”  Grantaire said, taking Jehan’s hand and heading in the direction of the starting line.   Jehan waved to Feuilly as he left with Grantaire.

 

—o0o—

 

Jehan quite enjoyed riding along with Grantaire, though the Vespa was noisy. It allowed him to be part of the action, hanging out with everyone without having to put stress on his weakened body. The breeze felt nice against his face, and Grantaire was driving nice and slowly so Jehan could talk and slap high-fives as people passed. 

There was a plethora of tents and tables set up when they reached the end of the route.  Enjolras had outdone himself.

“How did you put all of this together so fast?!” Jehan asked as Enjolras came to a stop.  He shrugged, out of breath, smiling.

“He’s the fund-raiser fairy.” Grantaire answered for him. Enjolras laughed and took a drink from the plastic cup Eponine had handed him at the finish line.

“Anyone will show up if there’s a promise of food.” He replied with a grin.

Bahorel ran up next, not nearly as winded as Enjolras, and gave Jehan a friendly slap on the back.

“You okay, Enjolras?” he asked.  Enjolras laughed and nodded. 

“Little out of shape.” He replied, combing his hand through his now-short curls.  “I’m glad I hacked off that ponytail.” He said.  Jehan laughed. Feuilly, who had finished nearly ten minutes before everyone else, approached with a smile.  Jehan’s jaw dropped when he saw him, and he ran to him, leaping into his arms.  Feuilly had shaved his head at the hair donation tent set up under a nearby tree.  Jehan’s eyes were filled with happy tears when Feuilly finally released him.

“You didn’t have to do that, Feuilly.” He said.

“I wanted to.  Now we match.” He grinned.  Bossuet and Joly walked up, and Bossuet laughed.

“I guess being bald is cool now.” He said, tapping Feuilly’s head like a drum. 

“It is much cooler temperature wise than whatever this is.” Grantaire said with a chuckle, rubbing at Enjolras’ head of messy curls.

“Did anyone bring a brush?” he asked meekly, his cheeks flushing pink.  Enjolras was very attentive when it came to his hair.  Everyone laughed.

“What a diva!” Joly teased.

“Are we making fun of me again?” Marius asked with a smile as he and Cosette approached, hand in hand, her hair in a ponytail, his in his face. Cosette whacked it out of the way for him, revealing his freckly forehead.

“No.  Enjolras.” Grantaire said, combing Enjolras’ curls with his fingers. 

“Oh.  Well that’s good.” Marius said with a smile that quickly vanished.  “I mean, not good but…never mind.” Cosette laughed and kissed his cheek.

“Musichetta said free ice cream for us if we go over to her tent.” Combeferre said, Courfeyrac hitching a ride on his back.

“Couldn’t make it, Courf?” Bossuet asked.

“I made it just fine, thank you!  I’m just tired now and I need fattening food to fix it.” He explained with a smirk.

“I want ice cream.” Jehan cooed from where he stood, leaning against Feuilly, who rubbed his back. 

“Me too.  Bahorel said quietly.  Though he was usually rather loud and crude, he didn’t know any of Enjolras’ friends very well, besides Grantaire, and didn’t want to seem weird, not knowing how odd most of them were.

“I need hand sanitizer before I eat anything, I’m disgusting.” Joly announced. 

“There might be some in the port-a-loo.”  Grantaire teased, knowing Joly wouldn’t go near one of them.

“You couldn’t pay me enough to get within thirty feet of one of those vile things.” He said, seeming to gag at the very mention of it.

“I got you covered, Love.”  Bossuet said, fishing around in his pocket and tossing Joly a little bottle of the stuff.  He smiled and slathered it on his hands before tossing it back.  Bahorel watched the whole thing unfold and was rather confused.

“Hypochondriac.  Mysophobia too, which is sort of funny, considering he’s a med student” Feuilly whispered to him.  He nodded and chuckled lightly.

Everyone waved and smiled when Jehan passed. Some stopped to give him hugs. There were many other men and women there who were fighting the same disease, and they were so happy Jehan was feeling well enough to come.  He spoke with many of them for a long while, eating his ice cream and sitting at a bench with Feuilly, talking to whoever decided to come over. He was especially pleased when his mother and father came by with a massive bouquet of flowers.

“Aw thank you!” he said when his father handed him the flowers.

“All your favorites, Baby!” his mother said. “Daisies, roses, lavender, peonies, lilies…” she listed.  Jehan smiled and gave his parents a hug, then leaned against Feuilly.  Musichetta had taken the microphone again and stood on a raised platform in the middle of the circle of tents and tables.

“Thank you all for coming!” she said.  There was a short wave of applause.  “Look at how happy you made Jehan!” she shouted, pointing to him. Jehan’s face flushed pink and he smiled meekly.  “Also, thanks to all the sponsors!  The Café Musain, The Gorbeau House Inn, The Place De La Bastille Market, and our most generous sponsor, The 24601st Restaurant owned by the lovely Mr. ValJean, who is around here somewhere…” she said, scanning the crowd and pointing when Mr. ValJean waved.  “There he is! Thank you!  We would also like to thank the local police department, especially Inspector Javert, for keeping us all safe and sound on our run! Have fun, everyone! And remember, all the money we make from today’s events goes right to the Prouvaire’s and cancer research!” everyone clapped as she stepped away from the microphone and a local band began to play again.

Jehan couldn’t help but smile.  He looked around, amazed at the turn out, watching as people laughed, talked, played, bought coffee, purchased flowers, and even donated their hair all on his account.  For the first time, he realized that having Hodgkin’s might not be as terrible as he thought it was.  Yes, he was sick, and of course there was a chance, however slim, that he would not recover, but looking at all the people he had helped made it worth it to him. He would gladly go through chemo if it meant that an infinite number of other people in the future wouldn’t have to. He would be more than happy to have his blood drawn for testing, knowing that those tests could find a cure that wasn’t so painful and draining.  Yes, he was ill, but in being ill, he was helping to cure the world, and that made him happy.  It made him so, so happy.

 

 

Yay!  Thanks for everyone who's reading and following along and things!  Comments make me  happy!  Tell me what you want to see and what you don't like or whatever so I can make it better :)  Thanks again!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Feuilly was fixing one of the washing machines in the Laundromat below his apartment when he got the call.  It was Arielle, and she was crying.

            “What’s going on, Mrs. Prouviare?” he asked, panicking.

            “J-Jehan’s—He—Feuilly you need to come he’s asking for you.” he hung up the phone and dropped his wrench, running out of the small shop without a word.  He blew about five stop lights on the way to the Prouvaire’s, and took the stairs three at a time up to Jehan’s bedroom, where he was laying limply, his pale hand in his mother’s, his father rubbing his back as he slept on his stomach; that’s how he always slept.

            “What’s wrong is he alright?” Feuilly asked, panic evident in his normally indifferent tone. He ran to Jehan and took his other hand, holding it tightly.  He was shaking visibly, though he was asleep. 

It had been two months since he started chemo, and more nasty side effects had started to develop.  His anti-nausea medication had more or less stopped working, and he was now taking a stronger prescription that caused him to lose a considerable amount of weight on top of what he had already lost.  He was down to just over 90lbs, and the doctor had him on a special diet, which Jehan absolutely hated.  The chemo drugs had caused his hands and feet to become dry and cracked, and he had developed rash-like sores on the soles of his feet, making it painful for him to walk.  He spent most of his time sitting on the sofa, snuggled up against Feuilly in a heavy blanket despite the heat, sleeping. He had very little energy, and either Feuilly or his father carried him almost everywhere.  Between the sores on his feet and fatigue, even walking had become a chore. 

            “We called the doctor. He said that as long as he isn’t running a fever, he should be alright…” Elliot explained.  Arielle leaned against her husband, tears in her eyes.

            “He was asking for you. I just wanted to make him feel better, I’m sorry if I scared you, Dear.” She said.  Feuilly nodded.

            “It’s alright.” Feuilly replied quietly, running his thumb across Jehan’s pale sunken cheek. Jehan coughed, and Feuilly recoiled, clearing out of the way as Elliot looped his arm under Jehan’s chest, holding him up and off the bed as Arielle shoved a pot from the kitchen under his chin. Jehan’s eyes flashed open, panicked as he retched.  It had become so routine over the past weeks, he no longer reacted much to getting sick. He just hung limply in his father’s arms until he was finished, then leaned back against his father’s chest, catching his breath.  His mother handed him a glass of water, which he was unable to hold himself without spilling. She guided it to his terribly chapped lips and let him have a little sip to get the burning taste out of his mouth.

            “You okay Baby Doll?” Feuilly asked, sitting on the bed in front of Jehan, taking his hands and holding them gently, careful not to touch the sore spots on his palms.

            “Hmm…” he cooed in reply, closing his eyes.  “Sleepy.”

            “You can go back to sleep, Baby.” Arielle said, helping him lay back down and covering him with the comforter.  He frowned when his head hit the pillow, which was covered in a bath towel should he miss the bin. It was rough on his hairless scalp, and he didn’t like it.

            “I don’t want to.” He replied weakly.

            “Want to watch a movie?” Elliot asked, trying to create a sort of normalcy.  Jehan liked watching movies, even when he wasn’t sick. Elliot smiled. Jehan nodded.

            “I’ll get it. What do you want to watch?” Feuilly asked, standing up off the bed.  Jehan shrugged.

            “Something funny.” He said, closing his eyes.  Feuilly ran downstairs and to the theater room at the back of the house where the movies lived, and hurried back upstairs after pulling out a few of Jehan’s favorites.

            “Kay I got—” Feuilly began as he entered the room, but Jehan was already asleep again by the time he came in.  Arielle laughed.

            “My sleepy little Poet.” She said.  Feuilly chuckled and sat down on the bed again, taking Jehan’s hand.  His eyes fluttered open.

            “Did you get movies?” he asked drowsily, intertwining his fingers with Feuilly’s.

            “Yup. I have…hm…Pretty Woman, Something About Mary, and I grabbed Mean Girls by mistake, I mean to get the Lord of the Rings…I think I just saw the blonde hair and went for it—” Jehan laughed.

            “Put in Mean Girls. That’s funny!” Arielle said, giggling. Elliot laughed. Jehan rolled his eyes.

            “Whatever you say, Mrs. Prouvaire.” Feuilly said, popping the DVD into Jehan’s TV.

            “I really like Amanda Seyfried. She’s pretty.” Jehan smiled. “I bet she’s really smart in real life.” Feuilly laughed.

            “I think she looks like Marius’ girlfriend.” He said.  Jehan looked at her again.

            “Wow…Wow you’re right. It’s sort of weird, actually…” he said.

 

About ten minutes later, Jehan was asleep again, and Feuilly was down in the kitchen, fixing himself and Jehan’s parents sandwiches for dinner. They had been more or less living on peanut butter and jelly since Jehan had become sick.  Even when he was well, Jehan couldn’t stand lunchmeat, and just the sight of it now made him gag.  None of them wanted to leave Jehan long enough to get anything else to eat, so it was peanut butter and jelly or nothing.  He bowed his bushy blonde eyebrows when there was a knock at the door.

            “Come in.” he called, spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread.  A head of golden pipe curls peeked around the door.

            “How’s Jehan?” Enjolras asked, stepping inside, taking off his shoes.  Enjolras never came into anyone’s house with shoes on. It was one of his many quirks.

            “He’s sleeping right now...not doing much better than last week when you came over.”  Enjolras frowned.

            “Poor Jehan…Hopefully Roux will make him feel better.” He said, petting the cat as he sat on his shoulder. Enjolras had started bringing Roux over once a week.  He had trained him as a therapy cat and Enjolras brought him to local hospitals and nursing homes every afternoon from 1-3 in the afternoon.  Today was Jehan’s day for company, though, and Enjolras hadn’t missed a week.

            “Head on up. He might be awake now. I’ll be up in a sec.” he said, slapping together the last sandwich.  Enjolras smiled and headed up the stairs.

            “Jehan?” Enjolras asked, poking his head around the bedroom door.  Jehan waved weakly from the bed, and Arielle stood to hold the door open for him.

            “Hello, Dearest! I forgot you were coming today!” She gave Enjolras a hug and Roux hopped up into Jehan’s lap, as he was trained to.

            “Every Friday!” Enjolras said, returning the hug.  “Hello Mr. Prouvaire!” he said, sitting down on the floor beside his chair.

            “You can sit on the bed, Enjolras.” Jehan said, petting the cat, who purred contentedly.

            “Aw it’s alright. I’m fine here. Watching Mean Girls?” he said with a smile.  “Did they go to the Halloween party yet?  That’s my favorite part.” Jehan laughed.

            “Soon, I think. I like that part too.” He replied. Enjolras chuckled.

            “Remember last Halloween?” he asked, his smile widening.

            “When you put on a leotard and mouse ears and Grantaire wore a wife beater with two holes in the chest?” Jehan laughed.  His dad couldn’t help but chuckle too.

            “Yup. What a magical night.” Enjolras added. “I straightened my hair for that. Talk about miserable.”

            “It looked nice!”

            “I had the girl thing down pat.” He joked.  “I hope someone’s enjoying my hair now.”

            “That was nice of you, ‘Jolras, to cut it all off.”

            “It’s not so bad. Grantaire thinks it’s cute. He still thinks I look like Shirley Temple, but that’s okay.” He grinned.  Jehan smiled.  Feuilly returned a moment later with peanut butter sandwiches on paper plates, and handed one to Elliot, one to Arielle, and sighed, giving his own to Enjolras.

            “No you have it. I already had dinner. Thanks though.” He smiled.

            “Oh thank God I am way too lazy to go make another one.” Feuilly admitted, taking the plate back and sliding down the wall, sitting down next to Enjolras.

            “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Arielle asked.  “I can make you something else, if you’d like.”

            “No thank you, Mrs. Prouvaire, really, I ate.  Grantaire made dinner tonight.” He smiled, though he was secretly a bit put off. After being diagnosed with anorexia, everyone seemed to assume he needed to be hand fed or he wouldn’t eat, and that he needed to take food every time it was offered.  He had recovered fully, and Grantaire made sure he remembered to eat. Nobody else needed to. But he knew it was only out of love for him, and he always just smiled and politely refused.

            “Roux makes me so happy, Enjolras, I always love it when you bring him.”

            “I’m glad. He makes everyone happy. It’s his job.” Enjolras grinned.

            “He smells like lavender.” Jehan noted, stroking the cat’s ears.

            “I give him a bath before I bring him here.  I don’t want you to get sick.  I take him to hospitals and nursing homes too, and I don’t want to bring anything in here. The last thing you need is another ailment.”

            “Aw thank you for taking a bath for me, Roux.  What a lovely little kitty cat.” He said, resting the kitten against his chest and snuggling him against his cheek.  Elliot snapped a picture of his phone while Jehan was distracted.  He didn’t like having his picture taken since he became ill. He thought he looked terribly ugly and didn’t want anyone to see him in his current state besides his friends, and that was only when he was prepared: a scarf covering his head, a heavy sweater disguising his deteriorating body.  He always kept his nails painted bright blue because it was the only ‘happy’ color that covered his peeling, bruised nails.

            “Tomorrow might be your last treatment, Baby.” Arielle reminded him with a smile. Jehan was due for more testing, and if it all came back normal, he would officially be in remission and out of treatment.  He grinned.

            “I hope so.” He said, leaning back on his pillow, suddenly becoming dizzy.  Feuilly sat next to him, holding his hand. “That would be lovely.”

 

 

 

~Sorry this is a little short!!! Busy busy busy!!!


	7. Chapter 7

Six weeks later, Feuilly and Jehan sat hand in hand on the front steps of the Louvre, watching tourists taking pictures as Jehan sipped his lemonade.

            “Your hair looks cute today, Baby Doll.” Feuilly said, draping his arm over Jehan’s skinny shoulders and pulling him close.  He smiled sweetly.

            “Thank you, Darling.” He replied.  His hair had just grown long enough to pull back, and today he was sporting two braided pigtails woven with flowers and silky ribbon that matched his yellow halter top, which tied in the back with a similar ribbon.

            “You put sunblock on, right?” he asked quietly, rubbing Jehan’s shoulder gently, how he liked. Jehan nodded.  Though he burned easily before, the chemotherapy treatment he had undergone over the past months had deteriorated his skin and he couldn’t be outside long without getting a painful sunburn.  He wore a floppy wide-brimmed hat to protect his head and neck, but most of his back was still exposed.

            “I weighed myself this morning.” Jehan said, looking to Feuilly with a smile.  “I’m back up to 110 pounds.  That’s almost where I was before.” Feuilly grinned.

            “I’m proud of you, Baby.” He said, lifting the brim of his floppy white hat and placing a careful kiss to his delicate lips.  Jehan’s freckly cheeks blushed a lovely shade of peachy pink, and Feuilly nuzzled his nose.

            They sat like this for quite a while, just enjoying the weather and each other’s company, when suddenly Feuilly sighed, seeming almost nervous about something. Jehan turned to him, concern evident in his shining eyes.

            “What’s wrong, Lovely?” he asked, running his thin white hand across Feuilly’s stubbly cheek.

            “I was just thinking…” he began, “You’re 21 now, and I’m 23…and…I was wondering if you wanted to uh…” he stood up on the stairs, taking Jehan’s hand and standing him up as well. Without releasing his hand, Feuilly knelt down and pulled a little velvet box out of his pocket. He smiled up meekly at Jehan, who covered his mouth with his free hand and started to cry.  “Want to get married?” he asked, feeling his face flush red. Jehan nodded and Feuilly slipped the thin diamond ring onto his slender finger, and then stood up. Jehan leapt into his arms, and everyone around them began to clap. 

            “Feuilly I love you so much.” Jehan said through his tears.  Feuilly smiled, holding Jehan and kissing the crook of his pale neck.

            “Love you too, Baby Doll.”

            “Thank you. Thank you for everything.” Feuilly only smiled down at Jehan, at a loss for words.  He only held him close and thought how lucky he was to be there, how lucky he was to have his Jehan. All at once he was overcome with a flood of joy and pride.  His little love had made it through something so terrible and so difficult. Fueilly felt he had to give him something huge, and what’s larger than his own life?  But really, he was the one being rewarded. He was so beyond lucky that he got to spend the rest of his life with someone so kind and warm and wonderful. Someone so brave.

 

 

 

 

~That's it, everyone!    
  
Sorry if this seems short and abrupt, but I needed to end it, and I have this ridiculous urge to write a wedding, so I just set up for that and ended this at the same time.  
  
Yay Jehan and Feuilly!  I don't know why more people don't ship them.  They're so perfect!  The two artists!  Anyhow, thank you guys for reading!


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